


Three Times I Love You

by kbearwritesthings



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, so much of the fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-16
Updated: 2014-07-16
Packaged: 2018-02-09 01:58:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1964616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kbearwritesthings/pseuds/kbearwritesthings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel may be close, but sometimes they have to say outright what they really mean. As one would expect, emotions are difficult for the hardened hunter and his angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Diner

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is from last December, and it was my first one ever. Exciting stuff!

    They sat in a Baker's Square in Felton, California, after a witch hunt. Cities and jobs typically blend together for Dean, but he's never forgotten this one. Sam left the diner to go to a pharmacy next door for supplies, leaving Dean sitting across from Castiel, alone in the early morning quiet.

    Well, it would have been quiet, but Cas' black dress shoe kept tapping on the flecked linoleum. Dean gritted his teeth and tried to focus on his bacon cheeseburger, but the food wasn't quite good enough to hold his concentration. So Cas just continued, tapping away, his eyes staring at something that was just out of reach. Dean tried to catch Cas' gaze to make him stop, but the bright blue eyes eluded him. Suddenly, Cas' mouth twitched, drawing Dean's eyes to the gentle arch of Cas' upper lip. Dean felt a soft tug on the tip of his own lip and clenched his jaw to fight the sensation. That'd been happening more and more to him lately, this peculiar urge to smile around Cas. Sam had mentioned it one night, after he ran into Dean trying to sneak back to his own bedroom at four AM. The story was that Cas had experienced his first nightmare, but Sam wasn't buying it. If someone can deal with being trapped in Purgatory for a year, thought Sam, I think he can handle a little night terror. But Dean knew nothing of Sam's suspicions, and hid every urge under a layer of sarcasm.

    In his haste to cover his smirk, Dean searched for something else to distract him from the tap-tap-tap of the Goodwill shoe. Without thinking, the hunter reached his foot out and gently pressed Cas' offending shoe to the floor. Cas looked up, eyes rapidly refocusing.

    "What?" the angel asked.

    "That shoe, man. I couldn't take that noise anymore!" Dean replied.

   "Oh, I'm sorry, Dean. I didn't realize that was an annoyance. I was not thinking very clearly." Cas paused, forehead wrinkling. "Aren't you going to lift your foot off, now?"

    Dean froze. His green eyes widened as he searched for a reason why. Just move your foot, man, he thought to himself, but his foot didn't budge.

    "It's okay, you know."

    "What?" this time it was Dean's turn to be confused.

    "Your foot. I don't mind it," Cas elaborated, smiling slightly, "In fact…" Staring directly at the man across from him, Cas took his unencumbered foot and placed it on top of Dean's corresponding one.

    "You're blushing."

    "No, I'm not. It's too damn hot in here. Let's go." Dean felt heat rising throughout his whole body. He hadn't felt this embarrassed since Amanda Heckerling dumped him at Truman High.

   "I think I know enough about human emotion by this point, Dean. You are embarrassed by physical contact."

    "I am not. Don't be a dick; I hook up with girls all the time. It's more action than you ever get."

    "Dean," Cas said, casting his eyes downward at his half-eaten burger, "What if I don't want to 'hook up' with any girls?"

    Dean's mouth dropped open. He tried to turn the corners into a smile, but it was too late. Cas's eyes narrowed to slits and he grabbed for his trench coat and slid out of the booth, jaw set and hands gripping the tan fabric.

    "Wait, Cas," Dean muttered. Cas kept walking, and Dean began to miss the sound of Cas' shoe. Thinking of the shoe made Dean think of Cas' shy smile and Cas' leg against his own and Cas' hand on Dean's head after being stunned by the witch and abruptly Dean was lurching across the red leather booth towards the diner door. The bell chimed twice in rapid succession: first when Cas tried to open the door, and second when Dean grabbed Cas, causing the angel to lean back and involuntarily pull the door shut.

    "I didn't mean it, okay?" Dean said, unable to look the other man in the eye. "I swear, I'm just surprised. But it's not that weird. Love is love, isn't that what those commercials say? I get it."

    "I don't believe that you do, Dean. You don't love much, in the romantic sense. You 'love them and leave them,' as Sam likes to say. And you certainly don't know what it's like to love a man."

    "That's what you'd think." The words were out of Dean's mouth before he could clamp his teeth down and trap them inside.

    "What do you mean, Dean? Have you loved someone… someone who is not a woman?"

    "I don't want to talk abou-"

    "Dean. Please." Cas pleaded, taking a step closer to Dean.

    "Yeah, Cas. Sure." Dean couldn't meet Cas' eyes, so he stared at the patterns in the white tile.

    "Do you still? Who?"

    "I'm not going to talk about this with your de-feathered ass, okay? I can't-"

    Cas took another step into Dean's space.

    "I think you'll be happier if you show your feelings, Dean," Cas' face was expressionless, but the redness creeping up his cheeks was unmistakable. Dean had been putting moves on chicks in diners for twenty years now, and he knew that look.

    "Cas."

    "Yes, Dean?" Cas responded.

    "No, stupid. That's my answer. You. Cas. Castiel. Angel of the Lord."

    "That's who you…"

    "Love. Yeah, Cas. I love you."

    "Oh." The redness in Castiel's cheeks reached fire-engine levels, and Dean knew there was no turning back. He looked at that pink curve of Cas' lip and leaned in. One of Dean's hands found its way to Cas' hair, leaving a trail of tufts in its wake.

    After a few moments, Cas pulled away gently. Dean, gaze fixated to a point just below Cas' left shoulder, rooted in his pocket for the Impala's keys. Suddenly he felt a slight pressure, a pulling, on his right hand. He looked up, and Cas was smiling. A real smile this time, not a shy half-grin.

    "Dean?"

    "What, Cas?" Dean replied, stifling a chuckle.

    "Are you going to let go of my hand, now?"


	2. Store

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotional constipation continues as Dean and Cas learn how to act like functional individuals in their relationship. For once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter, originally published on ff.net in February 2014.

 

Sam, Dean, and Castiel strode into a seen-one-seen-em-all convenience store in Ashland, Ohio. Each man had a list of items, dictated by Sam, enabling them to shop with maximum efficiency. Sam strode to the food section, leaving Dean and Cas to fend for themselves for non-edibles. Dean stood in aisle six, searching the miles of bottles for decent shaving cream. He'd seen within seconds the kind that Sam would buy—cheap, unassuming, and good enough to do the job—but Dean wasn't ready to give up so easily. Using Sam's cheap stuff, Dean had felt every hair being pulled away from his face, and that was not an experience that he wanted to repeat. As much as his brain respected Sammy's coupon-cutting ways, his skin did not agree.

Of course, Dean wasn't so prissy that his own comfort was his only motivating factor. Something told him that Castiel wouldn't mind a closer shave either. He remembered one night in front of a cheap motel TV, once Sam had left the room to get dinner. Dean slouched on the edge of the bed, staring intently at the television, while Cas hovered around the door.

"Come here," the hunter said, patting the bed, "you seem weirdly eager to bolt." Dean kept his eyes trained on the screen, but Cas noticed the tension in his friend's shoulders.

"Of course, Dean, I was just waiting," Cas responded, but he didn't know exactly what he was waiting for. Even so, he joined his companion on the lumpy mattress.

Dean's previous irritations echoed in Cas' mind, don't angels know anything about personal space, so he left a foot of empty comforter between his right leg and Dean's left. However, Cas only withstood a few lackluster minutes of one of Dean's macho movies before scooting closer. He shifted a bit, knee bumping thigh, looking Dean up and down to gauge his reaction. Cas was a bit surprised at his own forwardness, but Dean remained impassive. Cas furrowed his brows, turned his head to the television, and tried to follow along. Twenty minutes passed, and Castiel watched every tick of the clock.

"Umm…" Cas couldn't think of a way to finish his sentence.

"Yeah, what?" Dean glanced briefly at the angel.

"What is happening?"

"He's about to start training for the first fight, man!" Dean said, shaking his fist in excitement.

"And who's the woman with him?" Castiel asked, because asking questions was more interesting than watching without comprehension.

"Girlfriend," Dean replied. Castiel snorted slightly at the hunter's disinterest in his conversation. Well, I bet I can make him listen,Cas thought, as his irritation got the better of him.

"Why do all the men in these movies have girlfriends, Dean?"

"Why wouldn't they? They're hot," Dean replied, only breaking his gaze at the television for only a moment. The other man squinted momentarily, unsure who "they" were in this context. He shook it off and filed the curiosity away in the back of his mind for another time.

"What if the men do not like girls?" Castiel pushed on.

That did it. Dean lowered the movie's volume and turned ninety degrees to face the angel. In doing so, he pinned Cas' legs to the bed with his own: thigh-to-thigh, knee-to-knee, and calf-to-calf. Cas waited to see if Dean would shift his position, but Dean stayed where he was.

"What happened to the 'personal space' upon which you insisted?" Castiel inquired, confused. Dean expelled a short burst of air through his nose.

"Whatcha getting at here, Cas?"

"I am not trying to get at anything, Dean. I just don't understand what you feel is acceptable."

"That depends, you know. On…" Dean trailed off.

"It depends on the nature of our relationship," Castiel finished for him. Gratefulness flashed through Dean's eyes for a moment before flickering out to he replaced it with defensive inscrutability.

"I did say that I love you in a crappy diner chain and then proceed to kiss you in front of the three people eating pie at four AM," Dean offered. He masked the shake in his voice with a strained laugh.

"I don't know what that means, Dean," Castiel confessed. Dean's eyebrows arched in surprise.

"You were there, you dumbass. Whaddya mean that you don't know what that means?" the hunter replied in disbelief. Cas smiled.

"No, I meant to say that I do not understand what that means about our relationship. I'm unfamiliar with what exactly dictates romantic involvement," the angel stated. He could feel himself beginning to blush, and he silently cursed his human-influenced emotions.

While Castiel was busy berating himself for his barely-noticed embarrassment, Dean sat unmoving on the patterned comforter. He began to piece together the puzzle in his mind, from Cas' reluctance to sit near him to the lack of witty banter to the impersonal text messages that had perplexed him for days. A smile spread across his face as he turned towards Castiel.

"You mean that you want to be romantic?" Dean couldn't stop the hopefulness from seeping into his gaze.

"You obviously do," Castiel observed, but he stopped short when Dean's face fell flat once again. "I didn't intend for that to be hurtful. I was only teasing. Isn't that what people in our situation do?" Like a light switch, Dean flipped his eyes back up to Cas. This not going to work like any other relationship I've had, that's for damn sure, Dean mused.

"What is our situation, Cas?" Dean asked. He had an answer in mind, but he decided to put the angel under the gun in retaliation for the awkwardness he'd been causing. Sure enough, Castiel blinked repeatedly and his eyes darted around the room.

"I told you, I don't yet know the full extent of human customs when it comes to social interaction," Cas attempted. Worry edged his voice, but Dean reached out and his touch dissolved any of Castiel's apprehension.

"We're definitely involved, Cas. I'd go as far as saying that we're exclusively involved. Does that sound right to you?" Dean asked.

"Yes," Cas didn't hesitate to respond, "Like the people in the movie, except neither one of us is female, so we can't be girlfriend and boyfriend."

"Yeah, so we'll just leave it at the former," Dean suggested.

"Boyfriends," Cas tried it out on his tongue.

"Boyfriends," Dean repeated.

One of Dean's hands rested on Castiel's knee, and the other pressed against the angel's chest. Cas leaned backwards onto his right elbow and let the fingers of his right hand trace through Dean's shirt the outline that they'd left on his shoulder so long ago. Their breaths intermingled, synchronized, as Cas explored the contours of Dean's face and jaw. About goddamn time, Dean thought.

Without warning, a shriek came from the TV and startled them apart. Dean studied the dark wood walls for a few moments, face clearly taking on a bright shade of pink, until Castiel spoke.

"This is certainly more enjoyable than the movie, Dean," Cas said with a slight smirk. Dean flicked his boyfriend—I have a boyfriend, holy shit —on the forehead, rolled over and switched the channel with lighthearted irritation.

"That's not much of a compliment," Dean retorted, "seeing as you hate sports flicks and all."

"Well, you would make it even better if you would get rid of your stubble," Cas shot back. He hooked his thumb towards the television, which featured a bleach-blonde woman handing her bearded male counterpart a can of shaving cream and a razor.

"Oh, can it," Dean huffed. He turned towards the opposite wall, trying to commit the logo to memory. Cas sat still for a moment. He then surprised both himself and Dean by reaching out and rubbing the muscles of Dean's exposed neck with his thin fingers. Soon, he replaced hand with lips, and Dean's eyes closed softly.

"Can't be that bad," Dean muttered roughly. Cas chuckled, and their legs remained touching until the purr of the Impala's motor announced Sam's return.

Dean pushed the memory out of his head with a shake of his head. It'd been two weeks since that night, and since then he and Cas had barely even brushed hands when Dean passed out beers. Damn it, Winchester, he chastised, but even his own frustration wasn't enough to wipe the self-satisfaction that always came when the memory resurfaced. He brightened even more when the image of the shaving cream can popped into his head.. Allowing himself another moment of indulgence, Dean relived the memory once again as he searched the rest of the row for the matching bottle.

Dean was so caught up in his reverie that he didn't hear Cas start down the same aisle. Cas padded only a few feet behind Dean, searching for paper towels. He spotted them, on a shelf just opposite the one that Dean was staring at. Realizing that Dean wasn't moving anytime soon, Cas attempted to smoothly slide past his companion and grab a roll in one fell swoop.

"Perfect!" Dean boasted. He reached out, raised the can in victory, and turned, just in time for an errant elbow to smash the angel against the opposing row of shelving.

"Oof," Castiel exhaled, eyes wide. There was no time to register the throbbing in his left cheek before he realized that Dean's entire body pressed against his own.

"Hello, Dean," Cas choked out. His body stiffened automatically, but every patch of his skin that touched Dean's was tingling. Dean tilted his head down, and found that his forehead was just inches from Cas' nose. He looked at the flecks of shine in Cas' blue eyes and—

"Did you find the towels?" Sam rounded the corner of aisle six and stopped short. Dean jumped backwards, pushing Cas further into the edge of a metal shelf.

"Sam!" Dean grunted. He looked in his brother's direction but did not quite meet Sam's eyes. "Shit."

"I'll just… I'll be in the car," Sam put his wallet in the cart and slid it towards Dean. The older Winchester looked wordlessly at Castiel for a second before following his brother out the door. The angel grabbed the basket and last few items and made his way to the checkout counter, watching Dean slide into the Impala's seat next to Sam.

Dean slammed the driver's door as he settled into his familiar seat. He looked pointedly at Sam, and Sam stared with equal intensity at the glove compartment. Neither man spoke until Dean sucked in a deep breath.

"So?" he blurted. Sam did not reply.

"C'mon, man, you're scaring me. Don't be a dick," Dean tried again. Sam wheeled around in his seat and gave his older brother a withering glare. Well, that worked, Dean thought.

"Me?" Sam fumed, "I'm the dick here?"

"Well, you're not exactly giving me anything to work with, you know!" Dean retorted, but Sam just snorted and turned away again. Heat rose in Dean's cheeks with more intensity than he wanted. He turned the key in the ignition and slid a tape into the player, and three songs played before he tried to speak again. "Listen. I can't say it's not what it looked like, because it is. But I'll be damned if I let my little brother look at me like that. I'm sorry I let you down, Sammy, but you can put it where the sun don't shine." Dean reached for the handle, but Sam stretched across the seat with his Sasquatch arms and pulled the door shut once more.

"What are you talking about, man?" Sam asked, incredulous.

"Guess you can't really look up to your big brother anymore. I'm not exactly the model of masculinity here." Dean tried to chuckle, but a sharp intake of breath betrayed his flippant exterior. Sam squinted, then his eyes snapped open with realization.

"You think… you think I'm mad because you're into dudes?"

"No shit, Sam." Dean worked his jaw, ejecting the cassette and flipping around the radio channels.

"You are so thick sometimes. You know that, right?" When his brother's expression didn't change, Sam continued. "I couldn't care less that you're banging Cas. But goddamn, you've gotta stop keeping so many damn secrets."

"Oh." Dean nodded and glanced at Sam out of the corner of his eye. "You're not messing with me?"

Sam shook his head and laughed.

"What's so funny?" Dean asked, looking around. He caught sight of Cas, blocking the store's exit and staring heatedly at Sam's side of the car. A few people had gathered behind him, apparently unwilling to ask the livid, possibly insane man to step aside.

"Go get your boyfriend before he blows up the gas station, okay?"

"He's not—whatever, I'll be right back," Dean grumbled. Sam rolled his eyes. Dean pulled the glass door of the store open to the sound of bells. He grabbed Cas by the hand and pulled him outside, using his other hand to wave an apology to the store's inconvenienced patrons. Castiel shook Dean off and stalked ahead to the car's backseat, shutting the car door behind him with a great deal of emphasis. Dean chuckled to himself as he walked around the car and climbed back in. He raised his eyes to the rearview mirror and saw that Cas' eyes were still boring holes in Sam's seat.

"Stand down, Hulk. It's all good," Dean threw Cas a wink. Castiel sank into his seat, sulking but no longer seething.

"I love you," Dean said, looking into the backseat. He wiggled his eyebrows at Sam, but there was a curious warmth spreading in his chest. Cas, however, was experiencing another kind of heat that covered his cheeks and made him wish that the leather would open up and swallow him whole. Sam made a retching sound. "Jesus, Dean. Just because I'm okay with the whole boyfriends thing doesn't mean I wanna see it! This is my brother and my best friend, goddammit," Sam exclaimed. Dean just grinned and revved the Impala's engine, speeding towards the next motel.

 

 


End file.
